


When no one's looking

by Shadowdianne



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:59:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7849591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/Shadowdianne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always the small things, the ones that made her fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When no one's looking

When no one’s looking

It’s always on the details, the particles that almost always get forgotten, the pieces that didn’t make it at the end. Like the way her smile used to curl into a smirk or how her eyes were always full of mischief. Is always the things that get lost, the things you don’t even realize. Like how her voice was strong and breezy whenever she was angry or confused, demanding truths that she never got to hear.

Is always the things that, once gone, you always end up wanting to see the most. And the things you discover along the way that makes you crave for more. Like the way magic is always visible through her skin, veins running with white and grey and black and something in between. How the power pulses through her in the same bursts she once used to talk, strong and confident, like an ardent fire, like a thriving ocean.

It's the way she speaks and stands, eyes emerald and wanting to know, wanting to be.

Regina is powerless against those, against those irises, against those hands, long and gracious, against the pulse point on her wrist in where magic and life thrives to be taken, against her mouth when she says her name.

Is ludicrous, stupid, far so-easy, how she ended up falling in love with her but she can’t just shake it off, like she just can’t look away whenever she sees her kissing the pirate. Because she should be the one kissing her, hot and tender, soft and demanding, against walls and with hands already starting to unbutton those damned jeans, those that are already her fall and curse. She should be the one cupping her sex, grabbing her hips. She should be free to whisper broken “I love you’s” and moaned promises. Because if there is something Regina has ever been sure about is that Emma Swan is a work of art, a woman, human, but a work of art nonetheless, one that cannot be contained into the idea of “possession” or “duty”.

She remembers when she realized, when she saw, when she thought on the possibility of touching those gentle lips softly, very very softly, digits cold and shivering, making those lips part in wonder, before kissing them. Back at the town line, with a curse at her back and a parchment between her hands. “I will give you a happy ending” She had whispered and with her everything else, her memories, her dreams. And Emma had looked at her unable to say a word and her eyes starting to glaze due to the tears that were already covering them, a goodbye.

She had seen it there and she had been unable to forget.

Because there is always the smallest things, like the way she smiles and jokes or the way she remembers that she actually likes root beer, the way she offers her time or the way she is always sure of keep asking about Henry schedule even if they have been co-parents for a long long time now. Because there is always the tiniest parts of her that makes Regina clench her hands and smile sadly, wanting just to move, to scoot closer, to hug the woman that made her want to be close to someone as badly as she can feel her whole body burning. Because there is always the detail of how she throws her head back as she laughs or the way she scrunches her nose while trying to read her elvish books, her knowledge as the dark one all but forgotten. Is always the way she is fire and ice and a force to reckon. Is always the way she licks her lips while she is about to speak, or the way she looks at her and there is a passing second of trust on those green green eyes.

Is always the little things, the little things Regina gets to see. The little things she will never get to be closer to but the things she will remember and keep, no matter what.

Like the exasperation on her voice when they banter or the way she positions herself, magic cracking on her arms and chest, whenever she is about to throw a spell. Is always the warmth and caressing heat she feels whenever their magic is conjoined, the way she knows, blindly, she can trust her.

There are always those little things, like secret letters writing themselves between the pages of the destiny they both refused to take, the things that Regina will never tell. It’s always those things,

Those things that exist when no one is looking.

Except her. Except them.


End file.
